The First Scar
by EvilRegalOncer
Summary: Mossad has given Ziva many scars, some emotional and most physical. But the very first one came with the dying breath of a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl.


**DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS.**

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><p>It hurts.<p>

Everything is deadly silent around me. I can hear a few people groaning, but it seems to come from far away. My body burns, and I wince as my lungs expand and press against my bloodied ribs.

I have no feeling whatsoever in my arms. My legs are pinned beneath plaster, and I can feel something sharp in my right thigh. My face stings, and I'm sure it's terribly cut up from flying debris. The Hamas planes came from nowhere; there was no time to run for cover, no way to avoid the bombs. I'm not afraid of dying, but my family is going to be so hurt over this.

No sooner does that thought cross my mind than I hear someone scream my name: "TALI!" And then Ziva is on her knees at my side, ripping away the chunks of rubble lying on my legs. I yelp slightly as the sharp object, a three-inch shard of glass, is yanked out. My sister tosses it away before taking me in her arms. She doesn't speak, but I can feel her body shake and hear her ragged breathing.

"It's okay," I mumble, offering Ziva a weak smile. "It looks worse than it is." It's a lie, but she looks so tortured that I can't help it.

"I should have been with you. I should be the one—" Before she finishes, I cut her off with a vehement head shake.

"No. I would never want you to get hurt like this. One person dying is enough." I speak without thinking, and my heart twists as I feel my sister flinch.

"You are not going to die," she says roughly, tightening her grip on me. "You can't. You're too young, Tali." Her voice catches on the word _young_, and a moment later I feel something wet softly land on my head. Incredulous, I tilt my head back—and yes, there are tears on her cheeks. Ziva—my strong, prickly Ziva—_crying_.

"It's not up to us to decide when we go," I answer quietly, letting my head fall sideways onto her shoulder. "But I want you to promise me something. I know you, and I know how you react to pain. Don't shut everyone out, Ziva, and don't pretend to be stronger than you are." Struggling to keep my eyes open, I raise my head again and look her in the eye. "Swear it."

Ever since Ziva joined Mossad, I had argued with her about the cold person she was becoming. Even around me, she was reserved—and I absolutely hated it. Whenever I tried to talk to her, she would brush me off. "It's the way we do things in Mossad," she'd say. "You have to guard your emotions at all times, or else they become a weapon against you."

And then one of her very close friends had died in a suicide bombing near Gaza. If Ziva was emotionless before, it was nothing compared to what happened. She became a robot—carrying out orders, only alive in body. Her spirit had been crushed, and it had taken nearly a year before I managed to get through to her. Things considerably improved after that, but I'd made a vow to myself never ever to let her become that distant zombie again.

But now I was dying, and she had no one left to turn to but our brother. He was almost never home, and I cringed slightly to imagine his reaction. Ari was a Hamas mole; he should have found out about today's air strike, but apparently they didn't trust him enough for that. Oh, this wasn't going to be good...

"I—I can't promise you that." Ziva shakes her head, voice weary and resigned. "I'm sorry."

"If you love me, do it. Please." I want this more than I've ever longed for anything in my life. I love her so much; if my life meant anything, I want it to be this: that I gave my sister her heart back.

She doesn't answer, but I feel her fingers gently pull through my hair, and that's a promise that she'll try. Exhausted but happy, I close my eyes, feeling my body grow heavy. Not long now, and I'll be free.

Right before I let go, she murmurs my name. "I will never forget you, and you will always be my little sister. I love you." Her voice breaks as she presses her forehead to my hair.

"I love you too." I snuggle my head into her shoulder, inhale—and everything melts away in a flash of bright light.

_I will always be with you._

Ziva sat there for a long time with Tali's body in her arms. She was dimly aware of grief pressing in, but at the moment she was numb—felt nothing, saw nothing, didn't register the rain falling or the wetness of her own tears. It was only when a hand touched her shoulder that she jumped, head whipping around like a cobra.

Ari crouched beside her, sorrow flooding his face as he reached out and gently laid a hand on Tali's brow. "Find peace, little sister," he whispered. Moving around to Ziva's other side, he gently nudged her. "I'll carry her to the car."

"No," Ziva spat back. "I'll do it." Ari knew better than to argue and so mutely fell into step behind her as she lifted the body of their sister and began picking her way among the rubble.

When she moved to enter the driver's side of the car, Ari took her arm and gently turned her around. Saying nothing, he wrapped his arms around Ziva and held her tight.

At first Ziva stiffened, her old instincts coming back. But then Tali's voice rang in her mind, clear as if she was really there: _You promised._

And at that the grief came crashing down, and sobs ripped from her throat as she buried her face in Ari's shoulder and cried for the first time in her life.

_Tali, what will I do without you?_


End file.
